


The Girl in the House on the Hill (And All Associated Ghosts Therein)

by purpleeyesandbowties



Category: Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Gen, POV Outsider, beej being beej, catch me subtly polyshipping beej and the maitlands tho, lydia deetz is a lesbian, lydia makes a friend, not beetlebabes, shenanigans and such, that friend meets her ghost friends, the maitlands are another set of parents for lydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 14:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19336708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleeyesandbowties/pseuds/purpleeyesandbowties
Summary: Lydia Deetz, the new girl at school, keeps mostly to herself. Riley is surprised to find that Lydia wants to hang out with her, but that's nothing compared to the surprises she runs into at Lydia's house.





	The Girl in the House on the Hill (And All Associated Ghosts Therein)

**Author's Note:**

> i pulled in a few easter eggs from the other two canons, but this is musical!verse Beetlejuice (mostly meaning beej is a chaotic neutral trickster instead of a murderous lecher. still a lil bit of slut tho). Riley is one of my OCs from an unpublished story of mine, but she was very nice to allow me to airlift her into this one. i hope you like her! this is my first attempt at any kind of beetlejuice fanfic and i'm going off an audio boot and a prayer for characterization. enjoy!
> 
> Lydia's names for the Maitlands, Dadam and Maman, come from this post: https://sidras-tak.tumblr.com/post/185716839067/considering-lydia-has-5-parents-four-of-whom-live

In a small town like theirs, new kids were like royalty. Everyone had known everyone else since diapers, so when someone they didn’t know showed up, it was open hunting season. Someone new to tell old jokes to, someone who needed to be caught up on petty school gossip, someone who wouldn’t already know all the hangout spots or be bored of the shops downtown. Someone new to crush on, if you were so inclined. So when a new girl moved in at the beginning of the school year, it caused a bit of a stir. Riley wanted to be above such things, but she couldn’t help but be interested in the new girl—her short, fluffy black hair couldn’t be tamed by hair clips and she wore heavy black combat boots, patterned tights, and a thin black choker necklace that definitely weren’t standard issue with the uniform. A few girls at school had tired the goth thing, the emo thing, the Edgar-Allen-Poe-Wannabe thing, but no one could quite pull it off. Hard to be hardcore when everyone in your class saw you in fluffy pink Easter dresses every year growing up at church. But this new girl—Lydia Deetz, and even her name was cool—managed it. Maybe no one had told her she wasn’t really supposed to be wearing nail polish, because hers were always painted a chipped black, but no one called her on it, not even the teachers. She was well-read, pretty, and funny when she decided to talk. Most of the time, she was quietly reserved, less than aloof but not quite approachable, either. If Riley had to put a word to it, she would choose ‘bored’. Not in the way most people were bored with school. She always listened to teachers with rapt attention, but the kind you might pay to a young child telling a quantifiably untrue story. Like she knew something no one else did but knew better than to brag about it.

Naturally, everyone tried to make friends with her, or at least convince her they were the cool kids in school to someone who didn’t already know the established pecking order. It was a surprise, then, when Riley looked up from her lunch on the first day to see Lydia, holding her tray and hesitating by her table. 

“Can I sit here?”

“Sure,” Riley said, scooting down the bench a little. Lydia set down her tray with a tight, “Thanks.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. 

“Uh, I’m Riley, by the way. What’s your name?” Riley asked, even though she knew. Lydia looked up, startled.

“Lydia. Deetz. I thought everyone knew my name by now. It feels like it, anyway. Everyone keeps trying to talk to me.” She made a face.

“Yeah, that’s what happens when there are only thirty students in your grade. Fresh meat is an opportunity to climb the social ladder.”

“I can’t imagine I’m _anywhere_ near the top of that,” Lydia said, taking a drink of water.

“You’d be surprised. Goth can be cool in a small town like this, but only if you’re an unknown. Which you are.”

Lydia considered that for a moment. “Huh. What about you? What’s your place on the social ladder?”

Riley waved an unconcerned hand. “Lower-middle, probably. I don’t care.”

“That’s why you’re sitting alone?”

“Eh. I just like the quiet.” She flashed a quick smile at Lydia. “Don’t worry, you don’t seem too loud. You’re welcome to sit with me if you want.”

“Cool.”

Lunch was almost over by the time they spoke again. Riley’s curiosity was poking at her and she eventually gave in.

“I know you’re probably tired of answering this, but why did you move here?”

Lydia chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve gotten that a lot. Along with ‘why the hell would you move here?’. My dad needed a change of pace after—well, a family _situation._ We moved into that Victorian house at the top of the hill, over the river.”

A pang hit Riley as she packed the remains of her food into her lunchbox. “Oh. I knew the previous owners. Well, sort of. My dad is cousins with the late Mrs. Maitland and her sister. I talked to them a few times at family reunions and such.”

Lydia looked down, something melancholy crossing her face. “I’m sorry to hear that. I—I’m sure they were lovely people.”

“Yeah,” Riley sighed. Before either of them could say anything more, the bell rang. Riley smiled, shaking herself out of her temporary sadness. “Anyway. Good to meet you, Lydia. Sit with me whenever you want.”

“Thanks, Riley. I…I think I will.”

And that’s all there was to it, at least for a few weeks. They sat together at lunch (mostly so Lydia could avoid being ambushed by people too interested in the new girl), had pleasant conversations or sat in silence, and generally developed what Riley would term a conditional friendship. A month or so into the semester, when work started piling up, Riley invited Lydia to join her for study hall in the mornings. Complaining about teachers and assignments gave a little more camaraderie to their conversations and they started hanging out before and after school in the commons. When Lydia invited her over to her house in the middle of October, Riley agreed with a smile and quietly shifted her mental label from “school friends” to “friends”.

—

The Deetzes had done some….interesting things to the Maitland’s old house. It seemed they had done renovations, changed their minds, and went partially back to the old style. The result was eclectic, to say the least, but not unwelcoming. She followed Lydia into the house, taking in the clashing decor with interest. 

“I’m home,” Lydia announced. “Mother? Dad? Where are you?” 

A middle-aged dad-looking man came through the kitchen door, a dish towel in his hands. “Delia is in town, looking for inspiration. Who’s this?”

“Riley,” Riley offered, holding out her hand. Lydia’s dad shook it.

“Charles. Nice to meet you. Lydia says you used to know the Maitlands?”

“That’s right. Nice people.”

“Nice people,” he agreed.

“You met them?” Riley asked in surprise. Lydia had always made it seem like they bought the house after the Maitlands passed. Charles coughed and slung the towel over his shoulder.

“I’ve heard. That they were nice people. I couldn’t know, obviously. I didn’t know them when they were alive. How could I possibly?”

“Okay, Dad,” Lydia said hurriedly. “Riley, want something to eat?”

“Uh, sure. Whatever you’re having.”

Lydia and her father went into the kitchen while Riley lurked awkwardly by the door, not sure if she was invited into the space. As Lydia grabbed two bottles of juice and a bag of chips, she said lowly to Charles, “Where are Dadam and Maman?” 

Riley was sure she wasn’t meant to hear the question, so she backed a few steps further away. Charles wasn’t nearly as good at keeping his voice down. Riley heard his answer loud and clear.

“The attic. They didn’t want to interrupt your fun. Sorry about the Maitland thing. I panicked.”

“Obviously,” Lydia replied at a normal volume, sounding both annoyed and affectionate. She joined Riley in the doorway and handed her one of the bottles of juice. To her dad, she said, “we’re gonna go study in my room.”

“Door open,” Charles called after them. The tips of Lydia’s ears flushed pink but she ignored the comment. 

Lydia’s room was certainly not what Riley had been expecting. The walls were a dull beige, but her curtains were black and her linens were blood red. Photographs strung on frayed string decorated the walls, and the source of them, a very nice digital camera and an old Polaroid camera, sat on a shelf in the corner.

“Do you mind if I change?” Lydia asked. Riley shook her head and turned to face the wall.

“Are you a photographer?” she asked, unnecessarily.

“Yeah,” Lydia called back over the quiet rustling of fabric. “The basement is a dark room. If you’re interested, I could show you sometime.”

“That sounds cool, but I don’t really like dark places.”

“I can turn on the light,” Lydia said, amused. “As long as there aren’t any pictures developing.”

“This one’s cool,” Riley said, touching the edge of a photo. It was of two people in ghost costumes, which were really just sheets with holes, but the whole picture gave off an aura of spookiness. “How did you get the feet to disappear? Photoshop?”

“Uh, yeah,” Lydia replied, sounding distracted. “Okay, you can turn around. Do you have clothes you want to change into?”

Riley turned around again. Lydia had donned a black dress, knee-length and flirting with a Lolita style.

“Nah, I don’t mind the uniform. I’ve never been one for fashion. Your dress is cute, though.”

“Thanks.” 

Riley gestured to a sewing machine in the corner with a few bolts of fabric leaned against it. “Do you make your own clothes?”

Lydia shrugged. “Sometimes. I bought this one.”

She crossed to her closet and pulled out another black dress, a little fancier than the dress she was currently wearing. “This one, I made.” Her voice grew soft and far away, too tired to be truly sad. “My mom and I designed this dress together, when she was in the hospital.” 

Her finger gently traced one of the safety pins that studded the collar. “I spent every second leading up to her funeral making it. Then I wore it, every day, for months afterward. I don’t wear it anymore, but I can’t bring myself to get rid of it. There are too many memories.”

“I’m sorry,” Riley said quietly. 

“I miss her every day,” Lydia said, mostly to herself. She put the dress back in the closet and shut the door tight. “So. Homework?”

Riley went along with the mood shift gratefully. She grabbed her backpack and pulled out a Norton’s Anthology. “I don’t have a ton today, but Mr. Mattherson’s reading assignments always take ages.”

“I just have science and algebra today.”

The two got to work, each absorbed in their own tasks. Methodically, they demolished the bag of chips and bottles of juice. Inwardly, Riley wondered if she’d done enough prying into Lydia’s personal life today—the mom conversation was not one she had expected, but it did explain why she looked nothing like the woman who sometimes dropped her off at school. But Riley was never good at controlling herself, especially when there was something nagging at her, so, twenty pages into her assignment, she closed the book and said, “Hey, who are Dadam and Maman? Why are they in the attic?”

Lydia choked on a drink of juice. While she coughed, Riley said, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but…”

Lydia shook her head wearily. “There’s a married couple who live with us—I guess you could call them boarders. I was just wondering if I’d be seeing them today, that’s all.”

“And their names are Dadam and Maman?”

Lydia played with her pen, avoiding eye contact.

“I call them that as kind of a joke. They’re like another set of parents for me. They can’t have kids of their own, so they kind of…adopted me.”

“So you have four parents? Your dad, your stepmom, Dadam, and Maman?”

“Five if you count Dead Mom.”

Riley snorted. “You’re so weird. In a good way,” she added. 

Lydia smiled. “You too.”

Then, suddenly, her eyes went very wide and she leaped up with a strangled sound.

“Are you alright?” Riley asked, putting aside her book. Lydia’s eyes were fixed on a point beyond Riley’s shoulder, and she flapped a hand at her. In a high, breathy voice Riley had never heard from her before, Lydia said, “Just fine. Excuse me, I have to…use the bathroom.”

She stormed across the room. Halfway to the door, she slowed, as if something was in her way, then plowed on ahead. When Riley peaked through the doorway, Lydia had her hand extended like she was dragging something invisible behind her. She pushed the invisible thing and herself into the bathroom and slammed the door. 

Riley knew she shouldn’t snoop. Riley knew she _really_ shouldn’t snoop. But it also wasn’t her fault that this interesting, weird, mysterious girl lived in a house with thin walls and that the bathroom was right next door. She pressed her ear against the wall.

Lydia’s muffled voice came through the wall, a one-sided argument that made no sense at all, like listening in on the weirdest phone conversation ever.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were off having adventures or whatever. Celebrating your undead re-life.”

A pause, as the assumedly-invisible person answered, seemingly silently. Riley could almost hear Lydia’s crossed arms in her next sentence.

“Ok, so you didn’t get eaten by sandworms. Congratulations. Yeah, I _am_ annoyed! You came at a bad time. I have a friend over! No! No, I swear I will bring you to life and kill you again. Do _not_ touch her. _”_

Another, longer pause. Then, Lydia groaned, “don’t make me say it. Fine, yeah, I missed you, too. And as long as you promise you’re reformed, we can hang out. Just not right now. Can’t you go bother the Maitlands?”

Riley pressed her fist against her mouth. Did she just say the _Maitlands?_

Lydia laughed shortly. “Barbara’s got a mean right hook and a lot of pent-up anger at you, so watch out. But fine. I’ll ask Dad if you can stay for dinner.”

Then Lydia yelped, “Put me down! Now get out of here, I have a guest and she _cannot_ know about you. Why? Because, Beetlejuice, I finally have a normal friend and I’d prefer not to scare her off. Shoo.”

Riley dove across the room and snatched up her book again. She had just cracked it open to roughly the right chapter when Lydia reentered the room. She stood in the doorway for a few long, silent seconds, and then sighed.

“Your book is upside-down, Riley.”

“Is it?” Riley said nervously. “Ha, so it is! Funny. Interesting. Weird.”

Lydia tapped her fingernail against the doorframe. “How much did you hear?”

“All…of it?” Riley said meekly.

Lydia groaned softly and buried her face in her hands. Riley rushed on, “I have no idea what you were talking about, but whatever it was, I promise that I’m not going to get scared off! You’re the first friend I’ve had in a long time and I don’t want you to run away! I mean, I hope I didn’t offend you too bad by listening in. I promise I tried really, really hard not to.”

Lydia smiled wanly, sinking to the floor and pulling her knees up to her chest.

“It’s okay. I just….it’s a really weird and complicated story. I was hoping I’d never have to tell it again.”

“If you don’t want to…,” Riley said reluctantly. 

Lydia sat up a little straighter. “No, we might as well get it over with. If you want to come over here again—” she paused, shooting Riley a worried look. Riley interjected, “don’t worry, I do.” Lydia continued, “then you’ll run into him sooner or later, I’m sure. He’s like a bad penny, he just keeps turning up.”

“Is he the person you were talking to in the bathroom?”

“‘Person’ is putting it generously, but yes. Do you believe in ghosts?”

Riley blinked at the non-sequitur. “Uh. Maybe?”

Lydia’s eyebrows quirked up, equal parts apologetic and mischievous. “Then I’m sorry for what I’m about to do to you. Beetlejuice!”

The air in the room changed, got heavier and less breathable. Lydia stood up, holding on to the doorframe like it could keep her on her feet.

“Beetlejuice,” Lydia said again, her voice even and low. Riley felt herself holding her breath. Lydia nodded to herself and said decisively, once more, “Beetlejuice.”

Then, without warning, there was a man in the room, standing between herself and Lydia with his back to Riley. He was taller than either of them, and broader, too. His dingy suit smelled _awful,_ and his hair stood up like a cartoon character’s.

“What the hell, Lydia?” the man demanded in a scratchy voice. “One minute you’re all, ‘go away or I’ll kill you’, the next you’re summoning me with no warning. Mixed signals, much, kid? What am I supposed to think of that?”

“I have company,” Lydia reminded him. “She’d like to meet you, apparently. If you don’t behave, I will _never_ talk to you again.”

The man whirled around, and his face was even more intimidating than the rest of him. Riley had to stifle a scream, but a squeak managed to sneak out. She swallowed the rest of it and said, “Hi.”

“Hey, kid.”

In a dramatic whisper to Lydia, he asked, “Lyds, is this the friend you were talking about?”

“Beej, this is Riley. Riley, this is Beetlejuice.”

“That’s my name, but don’t wear it out. Literally. Don’t say my name unless you want me to go _poof,_ back to the Netherworld.”

“Uh….okay,” Riley said. She felt like her brain was firing ten seconds behind schedule. “How come Lydia can say your name?”

“Lydia knows the rules.”

“I didn’t know _that_ rule. The ‘say it three times and you disappear’ rule. It could have saved me a lot of trouble a few months ago,” Lydia said, throwing a murderous glance at the man. He held up his hands, pretending innocence. 

“Hey, the line between canons is blurry. I don’t write the rules.”

“Whatever that means,” Lydia muttered. 

Riley watched them bicker, hardly recognizing the reserved girl she knew from school. Lydia was much more animated than Riley had ever seen her, and she seemed in high spirits despite the argument whipping up between them. 

She turned back to Riley, absentmindedly leaning against Beetlejuice’s shoulder. 

“Ok, so, what questions do you have?”

“Are you a ghost?” she asked Beetlejuice. He frowned, waggled a hand side to side, and nudged Lydia in the side with his elbow. “I was a demon, technically, and then this one married me and killed me, so then I was a normal ghost, but then when Lydia called me just now, I showed up, and that doesn’t happen to normal ghosts. So. Eh?”

“Did you have to bring that up?” Lydia said, looking vaguely sick.

“You _married_ him?”

“It was a green card thing!” they both snapped. Beetlejuice added, “Wow, you really latched on to the marriage thing and not the killing thing, huh?”

“There’s…just so much to take in.”

“And there’s more,” Lydia said grimly. “If you heard what I said a few minutes ago, there’s no use hiding that either. The two people staying here—the ones I call Dadam and Maman—are actually Adam and Barbara Maitland. They died but didn’t pass on. And now they live here.”

Riley sat down on the floor, hard. While she let her brain try to catch up—which felt vaguely like trying to run a marathon with shoes nailed to the sidewalk—Beetlejuice and Lydia’s conversation washed over her.

“Maman? Dadam? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Dadam—it’s like Dad and Adam smashed together. And Maman is French for mom.”

“Maman is French for _mommy,_ ” Beetlejuice corrected.

“What the fuck? You know French?”

“I am a learned individual, kid. Been around the block a few times. Plus….I had this thing with a lady demon and _she_ had a thing for multilingual dirty talk and—”

“ _Okay, that’s enough,”_ Lydia said, clapping a hand over his mouth. He brushed her off without exerting too much effort but stayed quiet anyway, settling on looking smug and annoying. He squatted down next to Riley. 

“So, kiddo, how’s that head of yours? About to explode?” 

He poked her in the forehead. Irritably, she swatted his hand away, and then froze, remembering that he was 1) a ghost, 2) a demon, 3) way bigger, stronger, and older than she was. But he just laughed.

“Feisty. I like this one, Lydia!”

“Leave her alone,” Lydia scolded. She sat down on Riley’s other side and put an arm around her.

“Seriously, though, are you okay?”

Riley rolled that question around in her mind. “Yeah, I think so. Can I meet the Maitlands?”

Beetlejuice’s face lit up. “Ooh, I’ll go get them!”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea—and he’s gone,” Lydia said, throwing up her hands. “I’m not gonna feel sorry for him when Barbara knocks him on his ass.”

And just a few seconds later, a piercing female scream came from the attic, followed by some truly impressive swearing from the same voice. There was a crash, a thump, and the sound of someone—or someones—pounding down the stairs. Two people came charging into Lydia’s room. 

“Lydia! There you are! Listen, it’s not good, that beetle bastard is back!” Barbara Maitland, deceased, exclaimed.

“Rude,” came Beetlejuice’s voice from behind her. Adam Maitland, also deceased, put himself between Lydia and Beetlejuice, arm stretched out behind him like he could protect her with just that.

“It’s alright, you two. I called him here,” Lydia said, holding up her hands.

“You _what?_ ” they both screeched.

“Is it so hard to believe that someone here missed me?” Beetlejuice whined. They ignored him. Lydia took a few steps closer to the ghost couple, gesturing at Riley.

“Maman, Dadam, I want you to meet a friend of mine. This is—”

“Riley?” Adam said. Barbara took a step closer. “Riley Whitacre?”

Riley took a short breath, reminding herself she still had lungs that needed air. They didn’t look dead, was the thing. They looked as alive as they had a year and a half ago when she’d run into them at the family picnic and spent a few agonizing moments discussing her possible college career. Maybe even more so.

“Hi. You remember me?”

“Of course we do,” Barbara said. “Me and your dad used to get into all kinds of trouble when we were your age.”

“I can’t imagine that. From either of you,” Riley admitted. She swallowed. “I…I went to your funeral.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Barbara said helplessly. “I’m sorry you had to do that.”

“I wanted to. Did—were you there as well?”

Adam put a hand on Barbara’s shoulder, shuffling closer to their small circle. “No, no. We would have wanted to. But we can’t leave the house.”

“Ah,” Riley said quietly, not sure what to do with the conversation from there. Thankfully, Beetlejuice chose that moment to butt in. 

“This is touching and all, but I can’t help but notice that no one is paying attention to me.”

That wiped the sad, wistful look off Barbara’s face. She narrowed her eyes at him. 

“I’ll get to you in a minute, don’t worry. Don’t think I didn’t feel you copping a feel a few minutes ago. I hit you then and I’ll hit you again.”

“Promise?” he asked lasciviously, waggling his eyebrows. Barbara made a vague noise of disgust and turned to Lydia.

“Lydia, whatever possessed you to call him back?”

Lydia shuffled her feet, looking every inch the guilty child chided by a disappointed parent. It was so unlike the Lydia that Riley knew from school she almost laughed.

“We’re waiting, young lady,” Adam said. There was a softness to his expression that told Riley he wasn’t actually upset with her, just playing at the part. She could tell there was very little Lydia could do that would make Adam upset at her.

“He wasn’t lying before,” she said sheepishly. “I did…kinda miss him.”

“Ha!” Beetlejuice yelled triumphantly. “Please tell me someone got on tape.”

Adam wrinkled his nose. “Really?”

“Do you blame me? You guys are amazing, don’t get me wrong, but…I miss it sometimes. The fun me and Beej had when we had the run of the house.”

Both Maitlands reacted to that, and Riley made a mental note to get that story out of Lydia later.

“This is the best day of my life,” Beetlejuice crowed in the background. Lydia continued, “And school is fine. I like having a friend my age who is alive,” (here Riley felt her chest expand in pride—Lydia considered them to be friends, too!), “but after a few days like that, it’s hard to go back to normal. Don’t you miss it?”

Barbara’s would-be motherly rage deflated. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I do, some days.”

“Me too,” Adam said. 

“So am I part of the family yet?” Beetlejuice asked eagerly. Lydia rolled her eyes.

“Hardly. You have a lot of good behavior to prove before we let you in. But there is a position open for….uh.”

“A best friend?”

“A weird, asshole uncle. Or something,” Lydia said firmly. Beetlejuice looked mortally wounded for a moment. Then he brightened up and gave her an exaggerated salute. He grinned at the Maitlands. “How about you two? Is there a place in your little family for one more?”

Adam patted his shoulder. “One step at a time, big guy.”

“I can show you ‘big’ if that’s what you’re after,” he offered. 

“Ew. All flirting needs to leave my room right now,” Lydia announced loudly. Beetlejuice placed his hands over his chest in a _who-me?_ gesture, but Lydia nodded firmly and pointed to the door. Surprisingly, he left without complaint, followed by the Maitlands. Lydia talked with them briefly at the door in tones too low for Riley to catch. Adam nodded, briefly placed his hand on Lydia’s head, and the couple left, presumably to keep Beetlejuice out of trouble.

Lydia shut the door and rested her back against it. She blew out a long breath.

“Sorry about that. All three of them are kind of a lot. Especially Beej.”

Riley shook her head emphatically. “Are you kidding? This is the best thing that’s happened to me in ages!”

Lydia, who had not moments before expressly referred to her as her friend, had a secret double life full of ghosts in attics and demons with halitosis. And they were friends. Lydia had trusted her with the biggest secret Riley had ever had the privilege of knowing. Because they were _friends._

“Really?”

“Hell yeah! God, no wonder you always look so bored at school,” Riley said wonderingly.

“What do you mean?” Lydia asked, brow furrowed.

Riley shook her head in disbelief. “I just….you always looked so bored at school and I think I finally get why. You have ghost parents! And…whatever Beetlejuice is.”

“‘Asshole’ is still probably the best word for him. But.” Lydia’s voiced turned soft and serious, much more like the Lydia that Riley had spent so many weeks with. “It’s not like I think school is boring—well, it is, but—I actually think it’s a nice change. It’s nice to be normal every once in a while. I’m bored, yeah, but it’s a happy kind of bored. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, kind of. I mean, right now I’m freaked out but it’s a happy kind of freaked out.”

“Good.” Lydia flashed a hesitant smile. “I’d hate to scare you away.”

“Not scared at all,” Riley promised, even going to far as to cross her heart. Lydia doubled over with laughter. She straightened up a few seconds later, shaking her bangs out her face.

“That’s good.”

Just then, Riley’s phone chimed. 

“Shit,” Riley whispered, checking the notification. “That’s my dad. He wants me home now.”

Lydia’s face fell. “I mean, if you have to go. Would…would you be interested in coming back to visit some other time?”

Riley said, “are you kidding? Of course!” 

She threw her arms around Lydia before she could think better of it. Lydia stiffened in her arms, just for a moment, but hugged her back almost as quick as she had hesitated. They were both a little red in the face when they pulled apart. Riley tucked her hair behind her ear. “Um, I’ll see you tomorrow at school?”

“For sure,” Lydia said. She clasped one hand over her other wrist and rocked back on her heels, shy for the first time in Riley’s memory. “I’ll try to keep Beej at home, but no promises.”

“Good fucking luck,” Beetlejuice said, his head hanging down through the ceiling, watching them from upside down. Riley shrieked in surprise, instinctively moving closer to Lydia. Lydia’s retribution was swift and merciless: “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!”

He vanished with a puff of smoke and an annoyed, ‘Ah, come on, Lyds!” 

“I hate that guy,” Lydia muttered. She and Riley were still standing abnormally close, and neither one moved away. In fact, they took a half-step closer each. Riley’s eyes flicked nervously to Lydia’s mouth and back to her eyes, not sure exactly what was happening here, only knowing that she would very much like to find out. They were startled apart by a loud knock on the door.

“Lydia! Door open!” Charles called.

Lydia squeezed her eyes shut. Riley backed up, gathering her backpack and hefting it over her shoulder. The moment was broken, yes, but not beyond repair. Another day, Riley decided. Too much had happened today already. She should stop while she was ahead. But instead of expressing that, she said, “Next time you should come to my house. I don’t have any ghosts, but I also don’t an open-bedroom-door rule.”

“How about tomorrow?” Lydia asked.

Riley grinned. “Sounds perfect.”

As she left behind the house on the hill, it was with a little more pep in her step. Just a few hours ago, she wasn’t sure Lydia even saw her as a friend. Now, she knew more about the cool new girl than anyone in the school combined, had confirmation that they were actually friends and not just school friends, and the possibility of something else—excitement, at the very least, including but not limited to ghostly adventures and something of a more personal nature—and a tentative date for the next day. Things had been looking up since Lydia Deetz moved to town.

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes a family is a dad, a stepmom, a goth teen, two ghost-parents, a weird asshole demon uncle, and a very tired fanfic author. i'm sidras-tak on tumblr, please come talk to me!


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